Hatefueled Anarchist
Going home, having to restrain spring in her steps is certanly a novel expirience. In truth Lilieneth Grimsong of the noble house Truesnear of Har Garond could not concive a better turn of events. How could she, her long desired state of reality had been achived. Her Family is dead. All of Them! Every single one of the people she despised and wanted gone more than anything in this world! All dead within single day! Admitiddly one family member she actually liked got killed a while ago but she done grifing after her recently. What matter is that all the rest of them is no more! No more damn parents tormenting her into submision, throu excidingly ruinus torments. So long to ever envious sisters looking to harvest her organs for reagents to fuel theirs assention up the ranks of theirs faction of choise. So long to brothers seeking to defile her flesh for theirs plesures, be it by ways of Bloodyhanded or Dear and Desired Athari, whoms she venerates above others.
None of that matters now! They all dead! Best day of her life! Dear old father got to enjoy The Ostland horseshoes from up close when their cavalery decidet to comit. Mother Hatred darkned heart was probably introduced to a lance sized bolt flying with more passion than aim. Not to gain say anyone that followed that mad Count. Honesly all that mess is so hectic it could have gone either way, but since one of them had relived mother of her overextended live; well that's a favor in her book. Farewell to sisters amongst witch elf and hags of cults whose casualtis were so engreivous that most likely none of her blood made it back upon the
Fortress. If only all of her brothers could find theris ends among dreadspears and shards like the rest of them, she could declare her celebrations early.
Alas such misfortunes are easly correctable throu proper intrique, observation, preperation, some healthy bribery and healthier intimidation. Or in this case a neatly mislead spell. It's certanly sooting to know what can be achived within just few moments when arcane rivaly in the area is so tandalizingly overfilled. They even eviserated everyone in general area. As if she needed help covering her tracs. When those who Lilieneth wants dead die, their usually thank her, not that they had the time to do so this time. Nevertheless learning that her last living relative was relived of his insubstantial life expectancy, had filled her heart with vindication and satisfaction borne of a scheme Concluded, if improvised. Not perfeclty admitedly, but recipians are easy to replace even in current economy. And who's the enemy now? Well the wanna be Asrai claimants, officailly. With all this vacating going on, and their all encompasing vindictive life tax, the better part of valor is to increase distance from the side funding more killing. That's just common sense.
Ahhhh. Trully, this excursion could have not go better. Ex-Champion of Bloody handed fended of like horny dog, Subpreem Sorcceres humbled , even that pretentious Bane been bend, and that is before taking into account sheer number of dead or even the Second Black Ark to be Lost this Century! No, that's not right. It could certanly go better. Should that loud human priestess brought down some more structures, like their main Tor perhaps, the resolting casualtis would be … ahhh, one can dream.
Nevertheless even the newest of
Fortress Coven can not complaing at lack of entertainment, exercise and exitment provided by well meaning humans. Despite only just joining, as ark left Har Garrond. Newest does not mean weakest, just ask her predeesor, or her remains. As for prospects, estranged survivors of two armys being forced to merge on the go into one was always bound to increase demand for her's presence. Add to it having deal with all the turists pursuing local atractions and her mount chosing to die on landing halfway to her destination, means being pushed harder than comfortable. Then comes any 'personal side projects' to pick along the way.
Truly, work refuses to end. Yet, it just feels more fulfiling, like something is going to happen, something unheard off. Even the long time residents seem to pick up on that. Addmitedly not in the coven, it might just be her opinion but it does feel like her remaining rivals prefer busing themselfs with procrastinating and distractions. As for the unusuall, the frequency of backstabbing is at all high, At least there's still effort in obscuring actions, otherwise she would have to get involved for insulting her sensibilitis. Sometime it does grates how little effort some people put into theirs schemes. Triple agent, burner contacts, false messages in obscure cifers… honesly some people. The only way they could act more overlty would mean hiring a crier to declare their intention to intended target. Thou that could actually work, odddly enough. Not right now perhaps, too dynamic of an enviroment. But one should always keep theirs eyes open for any possible schemes to aid theirs plans with.
This and many similar thoughts were there to acompany her on her way back, through inssuficiently for her taste burning streets leading into central Tor of the Ark. Albeit, the burning part was not for lack of trying. The continued
clink clank of her dagger-tiped stiletos had come to an end after being deposided into back-then-yet-living-corpse of a fool wanting to order her around. Barbed bladed too, those had been making a return recently. Arcanums of fashion statments are truly bothersome to keep track of. Alas after performing only two castrations with them of wanna be suitors, more had been drawn to theirs charms. After all it takes less mental effort and brings better result than kickin testicles into asshole of idiot in question. No lost love on suitors either. Both were foolishly insulting as well, as if there was a reason to be impresed by slaying stupid beasts or kiddnaping of those who know not how to wield a weapon. Didn't took long for them to get themselfs resolved either. One all but crawling into waiting arms of certain sorccores while the other made the mistake of ploting revenge againts her, finding out how that ends. Still better fate then what the first got, his new lady has a reputation for a reason, all those ways to abuse ones insides for her to demonstrate a he's adjusting to his new way of life will take time, she does not have recently. Only thing that matter is the favor she now owns to wearer of said boots, a favor that likely will not be collected given impromptu extenshion of the collective shore leave.
Finaly her chambers are in sight. Plural, after the recent 'vacancys' it was only prudent to ensure the only neighbours would be the ones she aproves on, like say herself. Once of the steets rest of they way vanished swiftly, aidef by litterally low place on hiearchy. It took some finese but with everyone occupied recently one way or another, and reminder to few. – She had effectly became the ever so proud owner of this section of this level of the central Tor, yet away from encrouching forces or those desperatly aiming to disloge the communal means of transportation. That was a Lot of dead Druchii. Just enough to ensure a temporal buffor around her locum. Even direcly below belonged to only subordinate of hers deserving of the name, all of his initiative, 'of course'. Shame about upstairs but it's menagable given her underdevoloped plan. Bleagh! Funny that actually. Given how temporal solutions end up being sloted as permanted-until-otherwise. Hardly the most troblesome of finds too. Because who bring kids on a raid!? Appentice and adult scions is one thing, expected and encourage even! But Kids?! Not even a toddler! A babe, damn that bitch! No wonder she has been skipin rituals. How her ex-neighbour menaged to hide her offspring from her attention is a puzzel she would love to solve if she had brain power to spare. Alas, she is officially a legal 'owner' of a 8 month old elven boy borne of a dead junior sorceress and probably equally dead consort. At least she's wont follow on bitch advice of grinding the bastard down for reagents to be done with this 'long term investment'. Ughh. So much paperwork! Be easier to just dispose the crotch goblin at postal station.
Nevertheless. Security cordon. Could be thicker certanly. With most of Arc finest dead, getting a guard element worth the term up to respectable number is an undertaking in of itself, specially with most of remainder salling out to join meat in grinder. The idea of 'tug of war' as humas call it, using what's aviable, fails at it's humor if one's the one paying the bill! Alas, truth of security her domiciles provide does not come from the armed bodies around it. It comes from wards, traps and The Massive Door. Not being interupted on her way, as that would be a oddly creative suicide at best, coming from morons with better things to do. Having made it to front of entrance, comanding it to open, to reveal Another Massive Door separeted by square interoom.
This is where true defence begins, Magnificent Barrier bettwen hers and 'of others' on this ark. First outer door closes, then all present in the interoom are indentified by the wards- only her, as it should be- a series of spells is released to kill anything not identified, only then does the second door begins to opens, reviling The Final Massive Door. And none moves, not even the owner, for the defences continue, currently holding all that is not meant to move in stasis, volume of air and space itself included- it is simply to ensure that if anything survived prevoius sublte spells and remain undetected, it would would remain within interoom as those meant to proceed, do so after being iluminated and lead by protection system into the second interoom. With tranzyt finished, the second door closes, in tandem with a massive slab of rock swiftly desending upon the floor of first interoom in accordance with statis effect ensuring no chance of avoidance. If anyone would ever be caught by that they would be find once those who entererd would wish to leave. Alive if they be unfortunate enough- even if it only happend trice and mostly in benefit of the previous owner-Never say no to someone donating a new torture toy after all. Finally with safety ensured by meters of enchanted boulder, does the final door opens welcoming the return of it's master.
Before entering the home proper however, a few comands and modifications to the defensive grid and enchantments had to be made. The impromtu nature of said alterations doing little to slow down the execution of mental comands however. With last preperation done, sorcceres had proceed past her entrance.
What lays beyond would rouse satisfaction of many Druchii. For in entry hall two figures stod, both with carefully scolded visage of dreadfulled exectation and absolute submision displayed throu shivers, held breath and avoidance of eye contact.
To the right, . Once well taned by sun of Border princes, raised as a servant, human maiden clothed in perfidly incomplite maid uniform, lacking many dygnifing elements- including undergarments. Bows in painfully unconfortable courtsy, holding uncomfortably position meant for being easly distrupted allowing master uneeded reason to uleash ire upon. From head to toes all of her shivers, in patiently polished display of uncontained terror, beffiting reaction to presence that had just been granted to theirs locum.
The figure to the left, an elf of inhumane grace, life of lengt unreachable to humans, ogre, halfling or most of dwarfs. The patienty sculptured finess orineted athletic flesh of one living hard live and facing great challenges with regulality and well earned ease. Shorter by foot in height than entering conterpart yet making up in width of her figure. Denied barest of opportunitis to as much as look at approaching sorcoress. Eyes curtailed with binds, mouths keept shut with fabric. Hard leather, bounds all joints that matter such as elbows, knees or neck. Feet forced by illballanced footwear to remain standing on toes, effectively bolted to floor, despite mountig discomfort such positions grants. No respite for hands either, bound to hold tray meant to cause pain if lowered. Clothed in nothing but her bounds, leaving no room for imagination to fill. All strung up and held still by hooks and ropes, terminating throu ring at neck's back all the way to ceiling. A proud and mighty Asrai Deepwood Ranger, strung up as nothing more than piece of meat on a drying rack ready to be devoured by hungry jaws of the superior predator that calls this nest home.
As the undisputed master of those chambers approches after a hard day, of unexpected alterations and unforseen vindication; change in tone of breath is heard. Without raising eyes to ensure master returns alone, both bound servants appear as nought more but another victims awaiting their torment hoping that a display of submishion would stave of such time just a little bit longer. "Welcome back Misstress" an acented greeting, for appearance of decorum neighter cares for, yet practised just in case . It comes in time to rise sight and acnowledge lack of guests or visitors. Study of Asrai state interrupted to gaze upon rising maid against the act. It's distraction enough. Hooks and locks meant to constrain and hold still, never in such position to serve such purpose to begin with. Single hand lands on shoulder granting grip and connection. Second one moved mouth covering fabric, revealing healthy teeth in aggresivly approching elven maw. Movement so rapid, tray has yet to reach floor. Bite to the neck was as swift as it was precise, despite being based on sound and touch – for this experienced ranger needed nothing more. Hot breath of live left sorceress mouth in company of sound. As simply as that The Suppreame Predator became pray of the Hunter. "Welcome home" said the voice of the maid, lacking any subservience of before, eyes tracking her target. Cold hard floor welcomes all equally. They moved efficently and purposfully.
A thought of resisting had never enter sorcoress mind. Why would it, she wanted nothing more.
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It is an … odd time to be Elodie Baumennelle. For indeed to be a Bretonian would-be-Physisian raised under Shalayans grace has always been a path of great struggles and torments, not a small part of which related to state of Moussylion. For a world this much in need of mercy and compassion, there never lacks a reason for a bad day. As such to end up upon a Dark Arch of Druchii should be nothing but worst than the worst fate one would curse they worst enemy to, regardles of prevoius expiriences. Which is why current state of affairs certanly interfere with expectations.
Childcare; was not a duty I thought I would get involved in, outside of occasional visits to orphanage or child section of a hospicium. How does world manages to play pranks on people sometimes. Regardless litte Thymor continues to sleep like one would expect of any babe regardless of race; still novel to see an elf younger than a human, but babe is simply another level. One would almost be willing to forgot how much effort it took to actually put this little boy to sleep; to anyone that isn't me. As if Dove herself wanted me to know what did I missed out on, when I forsake family life. Very much unlike the lady of This house. Of course, would any Druchii outside of her ever learn of a human helping in his ubringing she would be killed, then little Thymor for being tainted and all that semantics. Then everyone left in here just for good measures, or worse. Likely worse. A Fact that never fails at getting a maddened bout of laughter form Lady Lilieneth. Pointing out, the more than comfortable possibility of anyone gaining insight into her domocide only makes the laughter go on for longer. Hopefully it will be a temporaly arrangment. Since even Slums of Bordeleaux would be better place to grow up in than land of theirs ancestors. Just another worry among current duties.
When did I bacame a Shrink? Providing a shoulder for fellow slaves away from prying eyes under threat is one thing. Having to listen to a murdorus schemer bemoan her life for hours on end, is something different entierly. Apparent perks of me being 'less dangerous than a flatcake', being viewed as incapable of harming anyone, thou her constant reminder of need for 'informational security' adds to daily stress. Still, being designated complaint recipiant grants an unique insight into a truly strained mind and even more abused soul.
Never before term 'fueled by spite' felt so fitting to anyone I heard of. It's like she forsake all that makes her a person in order to excel at singular activity, only to then form her entire personality around the concept of killing maximal number of Druchii without being caught. With such high elements of Intrigue, dishonesty and misslieading that her true self dissolved out of her countiousness, leaving nothing but masks and lies to belive in. Then to expand in similar frame on complitly unrelated facets of one's being. Her intrests, lesieur, esteem even intimacy being subjugated to unquestionable need of opposing. Resulting in a person that lives for singular purpose in self-inflicted enviroment enfurcing such attitude. Participating in ventures that would cost her everything , would she be ever found out, for naugh but personal satisfacion.
Usually when someone hates certain group and everything they represent, they aim to remove themselves from any assosiations. Sustained by spite does not make it justice. To direct ones actions and goals to pursue of as many deaths and missfortune to befall the enviroment that tried to mold her. Justifing any actions that variate from such modus operanti as rebeling against said values. Things 'normal' people would consider normal, being done cause no Druchii would take such an action. Kindness, gentleness and joyfullness being most foreign and as such most performed when allowed.
Why she's so insistent or her nudity is another bag of worms. Honesly all of her is a fascinating study of functional madness fueled by spite and involontary cuddles.
Regardless. With little Druchii menace asleep, Ibram still training and other two busy with 'lady of the house' , whatever they meant by that. I can finally continue me desired activity for the day. That is! Study of smuggled religious texts, more specifically- the much recent "Libra Esmeralda". To say it was weird learning of halfling prime Goddes would be an understament. To learn how recent her growth in prominece had been even more so. All those rumors about land of Ostland make it a place one would wish to visit for sheer surprise factor. Indeed, with her Goddes father having such a grand presence in there means that as a Shalayan, visiting could be counted as pilgimige. Then again it was such way of thinking that got her here in first place.
Then again, perhaps it was Gods will for her to be here. How else could her range of duties be justifiend. Started from tending to wounded fellow victims to being picked target of mockery to assisting certain sorceress eccentrics. If only her company would not be as
intense, but then again "faith untested, is merely innocent". Everyone has their own trials one way or the other.
All things come to be interupted however. In this instance by purpose breed female gladiator slave of Araby. "Elodie. She is back, it is time." Kind enough to keep voice low enough not to wake only child in the room, her tall and wide sweat coverd form moves with purpose and direction, still holding her kopesh. Indifrent to everything equally the way one wishes their slaves to be apparently.
"Guess we go, see what mess was caused. Again" while I know what to expect for the most part, so all outward was a sigh, and yet Ibram knew her better. Ibram always knows people even if she's not loud about it. "let's see to it then."
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Returnig to the realm of conscious, head upon piece of heaven that is my personal handmaiden lap – and isn't that a silly and rebelious term – marks the aftermatch of our little celebration turn surrender turned incapacitation. Waking to world of darkness, granted by abyss black silk blindfold. Gradually made aware of the likely majestic bondage my body been put into. Stung thight with rope like a piece of ham at bucher shop with all the loops and twists and knots, laying flat on the floor, with hands cuffed behind back, tied with fingers interlocking in a way that permits no movement. Even my big toes had been cuffed. My non-existing dignity covered by simple pieces of cloth, pretending to be underwear.
And that is all informations I have aviable untill Laura grants me more. Or the likely present Eonir and their allies…
"Why are you alive? What do you think?" The silks clad figure of authorithy whoms legs my head rest upon enrapthured in what must be a spell known as 'head scraches' voices out in what sounds like a melodic request, yet which she know will be answered with certanty of sunrise.
"My punishment is not over." words leave my body without trace of resistance. "Best day of my live, esspecially given I expected it to by my last. As such, time had come to pay" I state truth with catharsis of a confesion, simply joyfull to unveil smallest piece of myself to another. Honesty. Such a treasure.
No overt reaction from unknown number of my minders that must be in position to end my life, would I attempt any spellcraft. Certainly. Weaker than most I might be, does not mean weak. No indication on Number or position, even less on equipment. No point asking. It would only put Laura in risk way. Speaking of risk.
"Where did Sel'ven went" to wake without her near proves even more painfull than her generous bites. "I would not expect her to find old friends amoung Eonir, given where she is from but I would assume she would report to someone." My only answers being bows strings being taunt and agreeing huming of my superb maid."Not the way I wanted to break the news of me being orphan at long last."
"Who died?" Handmaiden asks again, purpose irrelivant answer will be had. As is proper.
Taking a breath to assembe more worthy answer in thanks for sustaing conversation, I speak "My brother and with him last of my torrmentors and causes of hatred. At long last I am free of the shackels of blood that sought to define me. That is complite, They are all gone."
"And now? You had been captured. One way or the other, your path may not continue as before" Not a question. A demand of acknowledement. For such facts care not, how mortal do. " However, you may yet follow another, Lilieneth."
"Follow?" I would not dare raise my hope. "Part of me feels like I could die happy now." Still drowned by rest of me. Thou now all that's left is cowadness. Hatred for family came to an end when last of them died. Disgust and repulsion belong to enviroment that brouth them to be. I wish to never see dark lands again, even if that means death. None of them has reason to let me be by them.Laura, Sel'ven, Elodie, Ibram. What little I did save for myself. From hooks taunt beyond skin's breaking point. From pits of arena destined to be laughet at to death. From having kind soul forced feed to deamons. Even if their gratitude is a ploy and pretend. Selfish of reason, but they have a choise now, and I wou-
"Follow the hunt, Lili" once more Laura cuts my mental damnation. "No longer seek to raise the number of dead, but aim for the most reaching of claws to cut off. Many walk such path, follow them."
"For the first time in my live, I can't force myself to live out of spite." The feeling of blackest tar melting of my soul is still bested by sensation of finger going trou hair. "Sure, still wish more Druchi be gone, at least those left on this ark. But killing them simply is no longer my number one priority."
"And what is?" asks priestess.
"That's the thing. I just don not know." I confess. Free of self-imposed chains of hatred. To rebel not simply against my family and their wishes but Druchii sociaty as a whole on the most fundamental level. It was borne out of spite and hatred. To sooth, to comfort, to relief, small mercies. Till one day I realised my greatest secret.
"Well since bath time had been canceled, might as well think on that." Enters with quest the one whose compasion is unbound. Along with the last, ever indifrent resided of my locum. Respects where it is due, those Arabian slavers know how to make slave not care. Still most of the quartet of those who find pity of my undeserving soul are once more in one room. Along with my jailers. "Essepecially since we remain confined to those chambers while Sel, does her thing. Ibram, just put those down and sit already."
If only Ibram could relay anything from her beatiful mind that is not some derivitive of absolute obedience. What legend would her skills grant her if her mind could comprehend concept of self-determination. So long as Elodie is with her however, it is of no worry.
Silence stretches time. Alas none are in mood to tempt our watchers it seems, for none speaks up. My mood fouled further at realisation of missed bath and aftercare. Silence was brocken eventually and with it came sentence of her fate, for immidiate future anyway.
Then voice. The actuall true
Elfen voice, spoken out of actuall elfen throat. Not a tounge devised for snears, insutls, threats and downright perversion all that elfenkind could be. But a true elfen sound of the elfen mind as intended by god-mother Isha. I had dreamed of such a moment, often envisonig myself falling agains Asur as would be proper for one born under nominal rule of Witch King. Color my surprised when I learned I would live. Even if I was still not allowed to view what had became of
Fortress last incursion. At least Abyssal Black blindfold is working as intended. Took the treehugers some convincing too. Not like they would actually value me as a person, but it was agreed that Intel in my posession alone would earn my live so long as I would behave. With Laura stating she will ensure so, I will.
Elodie and Ibram will determine their fate eventually. As is their right. Ostalnd having opportunieties for them apparently. Personally I will hold no influence of my destination, althou with general distrust of me, much of my knowledge would be out of date before anyone acts on it. Like that spy in Talabecland.
Alas. My wish to continue my work may yet be granteed. Druchii will die by my doing, even if at distance. Even If I would to remain on this floor.
Sensation of judgment pins me, with it AUTHORITY "Laura?" her eyes above mine, not seen but there. Determination and will deserving of FOLLOWING.
"Lilieneth. You are not getting of that easly." Truth absolute. Voice not raised but crear and firm. "Simply dieing is not sufficien penace." Damnation eterna- "When we are to leave realms of druchii behind, You will do so as well. Live long ans succesfull life in ways those fallen fools would hate and be offended by. One deed every day for the rest of your live, That is your penance." Beloved parent had spoken, one I always wanted without knowing till I met her. Disapointment won't be allowed. Promise is made.Beyond realm of mortals, oath is recorded.
"Why?" Can't look away. Can't move away. Her her hands on my head. Her sight on my soul.
"Because you made the choise. You had chosed to belive in my judgement. My judgement is this.
You are worth the effort"
My mind stops. My soul does not. Kiss had came. No joy would come tonight, my twisted mind would not allow it. Yet all negative emotions were equally absent, my soul would not allow them. Exalted as it is by another. Laura does not follow one god over another, but she respects most of them. And tonight, some of them had granted her this smallest of favors, unseen by all. For Laura sake I prove them right.
For the first time as long as I can remember, the last sensation I feel befor sleep takes, is not grieff, sorrow, satisfaction, hatred or joy, but something far more absent. Hope. In the end my self-deprivation has been executed by my Maid words, allowing me to drown in exhaustion let loose by relief of not being alone in my near future. Hatefuelled Anarchy will befall the dark ones.
That's for tomorrow, for tonight my soul is finally allowed rest.
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My inspiration was Axe Cop in prison. Thumbs up if ya know, if not look it up. wish I could write better.
